


waves of passing ships

by waveechocave



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Mind Control, Relationship Issues, magic brian lives au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 00:25:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12120558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveechocave/pseuds/waveechocave
Summary: After Magic Brian was apprehended at Wave Echo Cave, he stayed on at the Bureau, obviously with much fewer responsibilities. His fiancé, Brad Bradson from HR, has been fielding some pretty awkward questions from their coworkers about Brian's actions. What happens when Brad finally pushes Brian for answers?





	waves of passing ships

Brian's hand brushes the backs of Brad's fingers: broad, strong, smooth, and unadorned.

...and _unadorned_.

His expression falters and his ears dip backward faster than he can think to stop them. Brian glances away, down, staring suddenly at the ground rather than have to see Brad looking at him. It's too much. It's too much for either of them.

Brad nocks his other hand under Brian's jaw, trying to lift his gaze. Brian steps back instead and Brad's hand hovers uselessly in the space between them. Brian's eyes prick with tears. He's overwhelmed and sick with himself all at once. It's him who turned traitor, who abandoned the mission, who double-crossed the entire moonbase and his fiancé with it. He can't have Brad seeing him like this, it's not fair to―to pull these emotions out again, to ache for comfort from someone who―

Brian collapses forward, falling in against Brad's chest. The tears fall now, fat and heavy. Brian's sure he only has a second of this indulgence before Brad justifiably shoves him back, hurt by Brian's irresponsible impulsivity, and―

―and then Brad's arms close tightly around Brian, crushing him into an embrace.

"Dar-... Brad..." One of Brian's ears quirks up, signalling a hope he doesn't truly feel. Still, he lets himself be folded in close, his cheek to the crook of Brad's neck, and sighs. The inevitable conversation, one they've repeated again and again, hangs imminently over his head. 

So Brian soaks up every last inch and second of affection he can. A long minute passes before he finally pulls away. He wants to kiss Brad as they separate, but hesitates, and the moment goes stale.

"I, ah," Brad starts. He swallows his uncertainty, then tries again. "I took off the ring because people kept asking questions and I was..."

Brian tilts his head, coaxing Brad to continue where he's trailed off. "Yes?"

"I mean. Brian, I got tired of answering them with evasion and non-answers. I... they have questions that I don't have real answers for," he says. There's clear discomfort in the way he stands, shifting his weight as he carefully picks his words. "...I wish I did...have those answers, though, you know."

"I-I can imagine so," Brian responds. Another evasion. Well, he's tired of these questions, too.

Brad sighs. "But not for them, Brian. For me."

"I'm afraid I have―nothing else to say!" Brian shrugs, as if indifferent, but his voice cracks and betrays his hurt. "You've asked and you've asked and I wish trying fifty or one hundred times would unlock some other answer, too. I do."

Brad crosses his arms, tucking his hands motionless under them. It's an uncertain gesture, and it's borne out in the way Brad is looking at him, mouth a thin line, distraught and concerned. "Brian, please..." As if Brian had a solution he was stubbornly withholding! Typically, Brian found Brad's singleminded dedication to talking problems to their resolution sweet, charming, admirable; now, it stung. Bardic focus had its ways of getting under your skin.

"I am... so so sorry that I hurt you. I am, Brad, believe that, if nothing else."

Brad hesitates, his expression softening if only for a second before he finds his gravity again. "That's not a part of this that I ever doubted. Honestly, I always knew that. I-I know you care, I know the drow who loves me and who I fell in love _with_ is still in there, I just still can't understand... Brian, I don't understand how you could do it."

The truth is that Brian doesn't understand it either. Brad's right, it wasn't in-character. He had a selfish streak, yes, an enthusiast's interest in the shiny, new, and powerful, but the Bureau itself had satisfied that. Why cut rank to betray an organization already trying to retrieve the very item he'd tried to steal? Why bother? What would he even do with an enormous burning glove anyway? It wasn't his style! Even now, Brian doesn't know why he'd done what he had done. It doesn't add up. It doesn't make sense at all.

But that didn't change that it _had_ , for however briefly, made all the sense in the world. Maybe with him being the closest person to it, alone in its presence, the theft felt suddenly possible, easy. Maybe he was just more of an asshole than he'd thought he was.

Whatever had happened, it doesn't matter. Brian remembers that driving, consuming need to have the relic for himself; he remembers how very sharply real it had been. It had filled his thoughts with nothing but an inferno of desire.

He couldn't pretend that he hadn't done it, and he wasn't about to let Brad pretend, either. "I think you like to imagine, dar-... Ah, to imagine that I'd have seen the error of my ways," he sighs. "I don't think I would have, though! Absolutely I don't think I would have stopped to even pause for a second."

Brad doesn't respond, but the broken look in his eyes is enough. He's anguished and terrified and he's yearning to find some other answer. But Brian is telling the truth as well as he can. That's all he has, now. That's all that he can do.

Brad's frown only deepens, his eyes red and damp. After everything, he's still conflicted. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them again, he's looking somewhere else. "I still don't..."

Every muscle in Brian's body screams to reach out for him. He desperately wants to pull him in close, to hold him and kiss him; he wants them to bare themselves for each other, pledge and plead their reassurances.

But that moment has passed if it ever existed at all. If they'd ever had that chance, it's gone. Reaching out for Brad now wouldn't be reassuring or kind in the least. It would only be cruel. Brad's shoulders are shaking, and as Brian watches the love of his life falling to pieces in front of him he realizes, suddenly, that this is it. 

This is how it's going to have to be.

"You always were―the better person, y-you know―of the two of us," Brian manages to say, almost; it comes out too jumbled, too fast. The rush is a giveaway. He snaps his hands to his face, rubbing at his eyelids with his fingers as he tries to choke back a horrible, pained, animal sob. The cold silver of his ring touches his cheek.

Brian pulls his hands back as if burned, even though it means seeing the Brad's raw hurt and fear. Still. Still, still, still, Brian needs to make it worse. This isn't enough, not yet, there can't be any doubt. He needs to ensure a clean cut.

He looks down at the ring on his own hand. He looks, crushed with fondness, down at its thin silver band, at its delicate inlay of rubies.

And he slides it off.

It looks impossibly small in the palm of Brad's hand. It feels impossible: all their time together, reduced down to this. 

They both, at least, stare at the surreal little thing instead of at each other. And, at least, at least, thank gods, Brad doesn't speak a word to break the silence. He chews his lip, but he stays quiet until he nods, solemnly, and places the ring in a pocket. "...please go, Brian."

"Of course, darling. Of course."


End file.
